Not Much Time Left
by Linxcat
Summary: Astoria Malfoy muses on her husband, pregnancy and a certain Miss Pansy Parkinson...


There she is, sitting next to me, that smug smile on her face. She has all of his attention, and she knows it. I hate her for it.

It was only three years into our marriage when I discovered I was barren. Draco was horrified, as was I; Malfoys only marry to produce heirs, and I could not produce one. What would the rest of the wizarding world say if they found out that pureblood witch, Astoria Malfoy could not have children? It could not get out.

And so it didn't. Rather than divorce me and disgrace me, and I am very grateful that he didn't, we spent the next six months searching round family doctors, hoping against hope that they would have a solution. None of them did. The only thing that they could suggest – and Draco nearly had a fit when they did – was a muggle treatment called IVF.

The Malfoys having a baby with help from muggles? If word got out...no, it simply was not an option. The baby would not be of all pure blood, which would shame the entire family and the child's life would not be worth living.

So we returned home and Draco did the only thing he could do. He found one of his best friends from Hogwarts; a young, rich pureblood witch who was loyal and could be trusted to keep a secret. He was previously set to be married to her, until one of her uncles married a muggle and her family tree was 'contaminated'. A year after I became a Malfoy, however, he died in mysterious circumstances and her family was pure again.

A year too late for both of us.

I still remember the first time I set eyes on her; Draco introduced us at a ball. She was medium height with dark hair styled into ringlets that hung about her shoulders. Her eyes were a piercing forest green, the same colour as her dress, which satin waves swished round her ankles.

She was pretty in a kind of snobbish way, with a turned up nose and an easily applied smirk. I could tell that at least she thought of him as more than a friend, as she clung to him all evening, despite the fact that I presented myself at regular intervals. When I told Draco that night that I thought she was perfectly beastly, he merely laughed and patted my hand, telling me that I would warm up to her eventually.

At that time, I wasn't concerned about her, as I didn't meet her again for a long time. It was only when Draco returned triumphantly with news that she would be only too glad to carry the baby of a Malfoy that I began to get worried for my own safety.

Three and a half years into our marriage, Pansy Parkinson moved into Malfoy Manor. At the same time, my bedroom was swiftly changed to a luxurious suite in the South Wing, a nice distance away. Personally, I was relieved that I was so far from them, as it was bad enough having to come down to breakfast every morning and find them giggling and conspiring in little more than their underwear, let alone being in the room next door and hearing-

Yes, well, I was glad. I had to endure four months of this behaviour before Pansy finally declared, at the breakfast table no less, that she was pregnant.

I tried to be happy. I told myself that she was doing it for me and Draco – that I should be grateful that she was doing us a favour. In nine months she would be gone, the baby would be mine, and I would never have to see her again.

Those nine months were the hardest of my entire life. It seemed that, despite five gruelling years apart, Draco and Pansy's relationship had not suffered a bit. They picked right up from where they left off when they left school; giggling and flirting, snogging in the airing cupboard.

I couldn't complain, because Pansy was saving me and my reputation. She was allowed to have her nine months reward of her darling Draco, because after that, she would have to hand the baby over to _me_, and she would have to _go_. I would raise the boy (Pansy was sure it was a boy) to believe that I was his mother, and we would never have to bother with little miss bitchy Parkinson-homewrecker again.

Anything to get you through the day, eh?

So that was what I told myself, that was what I had to look forward to. Every time I walked into the drawing room and found them together on the couch, every time I had to listen to her simper over him at dinner, I formed my little fantasies of life with just me and Draco and the baby, a happy little family. In three years you will have forgotten all about her, I told myself, just bear with her for nine months.

As well as being the hardest, those nine months were longest of my entire life too. Pansy turned even more crabby than she was before, and I was at her beck and call, because she was doing us a favour, and wasn't it kind that she'd offered, and it wasn't _her_ fault that I was barren, and she was doing it all out of the goodness of her heart, and Good Lord, the list never ended. The worst thing was, they didn't even try to hide that they were together.

Oh, they were together. When we and Draco married we discussed the matter, and we came to the conclusion that we didn't love each other. So we would have no qualms if the other cheated.

So why, I wondered mournfully, did it affect me so when I saw them together? I had been with many other men that Draco knew about, and he wasn't bothered. I certainly didn't love him.

It was a few months later when I discovered what it was that concerned me. I was lying in bed one evening, my mind wondering, and a disturbing thought occurred to me; if he didn't love me, what if he loved _her_? Draco had said that they'd been betrothed since birth, dated during school and that the only reason they hadn't married was because her now-deceased uncle had wed a muggle.

What if, one day, he decided that it would be so much easier to just get rid of me, stop pretending that the baby was ours, and just marry Pansy? Draco wasn't cruel, but most of the time he was out for himself. And I didn't know what lengths Pansy Parkinson would go to to make him her own.

As I sat at the dinner table, I could hear them talking. Pansy was leant forwards to listen to her darling Draco, emerald-green dress exposing a nice expanse of her bust. And he was smiling at her, in a way that he hadn't smiled at me in years.

I watched them, stomach sickened. I didn't have much time left.


End file.
